


Whizzer Brown's Vegas Vacation

by ValidEmail (orphan_account)



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Groundhog Day - Minchin/Rubin, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Multi, Strippers, drug usage? it's hinted at, drunken handjobs, underage casino-ing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-20 21:45:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ValidEmail
Summary: When Whizzer Brown gets an out-of-the-blue call from his estranged mother explaining his father has died, and that Whizzer is expected back in Las Vegas by the weekend for his funeral, he's forced to drag the rest of the tight-knit family with him in order to quell their excitement over a vacation. Somehow, he ends up fake-dating his enemy, Marvin Cohen, Trina finds new friends in a group of strippers, Mendel and Jason play with fake I.Ds, and Cordelia and Charlotte get onto a game show. This is going to be one long, long weekend. Hold tight, buckle your airplane seat belts, and fold up your tables, because the tight-knit family is about to hit Vegas.





	Whizzer Brown's Vegas Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> um so there might be some mistakes because i usually miss a few please enjoy this fic is my child

**Tuesday, Whizzer Brown’s Apartment, 3.00 PM Eastern Time**

 

Whizzer Brown was NOT an alcoholic. Sure, he might have two glasses of wine with Cordelia and Trina when they meet up for their weekly gossiping sessions, or a beer when he and Mendel watch baseball games together. But he didn’t drink obsessively. Nor was he the type of person to get spontaneously married in one of those good, old-fashioned twenty-four hour wedding chapels, yet that was just how the one night in Vegas ended up occurring. And it was all Cordelia’s fault.

 

Before that fated phone call, he hadn’t spoken to his mother in a total of fifteen heavenly years. Though Cordelia pushed him to rebuild the burned bridges between he and his family, he never really took her advice. He preferred to stay in the dark about the whole messy situation, as it made him feel better, and he was never one to not procrastinate. In fact, it wasn’t him who made the first move: it was his mother herself, albeit begrudgingly.

 

She had an exactly two minute phone conversation with him consisting of her explaining his father had died of lung cancer and that his funeral was going to occur the next weekend. Whizzer, surprisingly, was invited to it. Along with the rest of his family. His first instinct was to tell her about his achievements, which included owning his own photography studio, thank you very much, and then tell her to stick her pity invite up her ass. But the need to see his father, even if he was dead, one last time overcame his usual snark. His answer was not definite, and he planned on sneaking out of the group for a day to come to the funeral, and then fly back easily. He was stupid to not think Cordelia wouldn’t figure out about it.

 

He should have suspected something when he stepped into his-admittedly-small living room to find the entire gang sitting solemnly on his two tiny couches. Jason had his legs folded on the floor, Indian style as though he were nine instead of seventeen. Of course, being the newly optimistic person that he was (due to the fact that he had found a ten dollar bill stuck in a storm drain, but that doesn’t really have anything to do with the story at hand), he stepped further into the area and unknowingly accepted his fate.

 

“Whizzer Brown, why haven’t you told us about your father’s passing?” Trina questioned from her perch on the end of his leather sofa. He gnawed on his bottom lip, mulling over the flooding of answers he could have given her. Deciding instead to try and run out of the room, he attempted to pull himself out. He had one foot in the air before Cordelia, who was right beside him, shot out an arm to haul him back into their clutches.

 

“Oh, you’re not getting that easily out of this,” Cordelia hissed, pushing him back until he was forced to turn around in an attempt to stop himself from tripping. Goddamn that beautiful carpet he just had to buy for his flooring. It was constantly snagging him.

 

“I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that important to you guys,” He snapped rather loudly, face twisting up in a mixture of annoyance and anger. Mendel leaned forward in his seat beside Trina, Marvin reflectively shifting away from him.

 

“Whizzer, you can’t just go to Las Vegas without telling us. You’re not the only one who wants to go,” Mendel explained calmly, almost as if he was patronizing Whizzer. Whizzer supposed Mendel always sounded like that when he was speaking to anyone, so he didn’t chalk it up for another thing to get upset over.

 

“I don’t _want_ to go! I don’t want to see my homophobic family, or feel their disapproving stares, but I have to because my father is _dead_ and I am going to his funeral. Not for fun, but because it’s my duty as his son, even if there’s an “estranged” before that title,” He air-quoted  in the direction of Mendel, not wanting to step any closer for fear of being even more sucked into the wormhole that was his friend group.

 

“That’s the thing! If you let us go with you, we’ll be able to comfort you in your struggles to be accepted by your family and your predictive panic attack that will happen once you see your mother again,” Charlotte promised with a smile, resting peacefully beside a smug Cordelia, who nodded proudly at her wife. Whizzer flung his hands up in the air.

 

“Is it so bad that I just want to mourn and go by myself in peace?” He shrieked hysterically, Marvin letting out a short snort. He whirled on the man, eyes sparkling with fury at his-uninvited, he might add-company barging in and trying to force him to bring them along to his father’s funeral.

 

“You shut your mouth, Marvin. Just because your parents accepted you with open arms does not mean my mother has suddenly turned into a saint the fifteen years we haven’t spoken. You don’t have the right to laugh at me,” He sneered, waving a hand in Marvin’s face, who was sitting on his other side. Marvin furrowed his eyebrows and bent away from Whizzer’s ecstatic hand, glaring up at his enemy with a fierceness Whizzer desperately wished he didn’t find as hot as he did.

 

“Whiz, please! I’ve always wanted to see how bright the Las Vegas streets are at night,” Jason pleaded, voice fading off into a higher octave at the end, transforming into an irresistible whine. He pouted, lips turning down, eyes growing Bambi-style wide. Whizzer sighed at his expression, cursing Cordelia silently for understanding his main weakness - Jason Cohen’s sad face. He shook his head at the child, eyed the rest of the room clearly, and unclenched his fists. Taking a deep breath, he plastered on a visibly forced smile, and blinked to wake himself up for the obvious hell that was to come. Waiting a moment, he announced in a loud and firm voice, jazz hands and all:

 

“We’re going to Las Vegas!”

 

**Friday, J.F.K Airport, 5.30 PM Eastern Time**

 

When Marvin Cohen  was nine, he and his family took a trip out to see the Grand Canyon. While the idea of traveling was exciting, it was to be the first time he stepped onto a plane - but not the last, as the universe was so cruelly forcing this visit to Las Vegas onto his shoulders. He remembered, hazily, though, that he was with his parents while going through security, yet when he emerged he was alone. Feeling a “Home Alone” situation was sneaking up on him rather quickly, Marvin had then decided to go find the Customer Service desk and report that his family was missing from his vision. There was no Customer Service in that shitty Maine airport, though, just a newsstand and a local coffee shop chain that was usually out of sugar. So he began to look for his parents himself, checking the places he had seen them last. The security check, (it wasn’t hard to sneak out of and then back into the actual airport, as this took place before 9/11) the area Marvin guessed was where they were supposed to be waiting for their plane. Even the bathrooms, though he was quickly chased out of the women’s bathroom by multiple shrieking older ladies that terrified him. In the end, he just took out his ticket, and got on the plane without his parents, hoping he’d find them there. Taking a seat, he peered out the window and read his battered copy of “The Notebook,” something he had snuck out of his mother’s purse on the car ride to the airport, to the amusement of a young couple sitting beside him. He wandered off the plane and agreed with himself that the best thing to do was wait near the luggage pickup, knowing his parents would have to come around eventually to grab their suitcases. He wasn’t able to find the luggage conveyor belt, though, because all of the signs were in Japanese.

 

As it turns out, he had boarded the wrong plane, leaving his panic-stricken parents at the Grand Canyon airport. They had bought Marvin a ticket a few seats in front of him, and trusting that he was intelligent enough to find his way on, hadn’t bothered checking in with him until they landed. Terrible parenting on his mother and father’s part, but at least that hadn’t rubbed off on Marvin enough to do the same to Jason. At least, he wasn’t going to, if he had any say in it.

 

“No,” Was the first word out of his mouth the minute the entire gang had stopped in front of the large glass doors of the John F. Kennedy airport, to the surprise of his ex-girlfriend and son, who was clutching his hand rather tightly. Whizzer raised a disinterested eyebrow towards his general direction, tilting his sunglasses downwards until they hung comically at the edge of his nose.

 

“What?” Cordelia questioned confusedly, yanking on Charlotte's hand in an effort to stop herself from banging into Marvin’s stiff back due to her daydreaming tendency. Her wife blinked dazedly, then nodded towards Cordelia and allowed herself to be tugged out of harm's way.

 

“I’m not getting on a plane. I _hate_ planes,” He snarled with a bitterness he should have expected, and yet was slightly surprised by. Whizzer had raised both of his eyebrows now, pressing his lips together in that Whizzer fashion that made Marvin want to punch his stupidly pretty face.

 

“Is this about your family story?” Trina rubbed her hands together nervously, the others giving her weirded-out looks, along with a few strange glances towards Marvin.

 

“What’s his family story?” Whizzer asked curiously, ducking towards Marvin, not close enough to see his blush, but enough to cause Marvin to stumble backwards a few steps at his close proximity.

 

“I’m not talking about it,” He snapped in his haste to get the unwanted attention off his shoulders, waving his hands around crazily as if he was swatting away his concerned friends like they were pesky flies. “I just hate planes. I’m not getting on one.” At this, Whizzer smirked triumphantly at the older man, resting his hands on his hips with an aura of pride.

 

“If it makes you feel any better, Marvy, you can hold my hand when we take off,” He cooed jokingly, Jason letting out a snort before stopping himself with his better judgement. Marvin rolled his eyes at the other man, narrowing his eyes and pulling a face towards Whizzer.

 

“Marvin, you have to. How else are you gonna get to Vegas?” Trina comforted him, resting a hand on his shoulder that he didn’t have the heart to shrug off, though he was getting a sick feeling bubbling in his stomach that she was just making fun of him.

 

“I don’t even want to go to Vegas. I hate the West Coast too. For related reasons, I guess,” He admitted, rolling his eyes at the obnoxious gasp Mendel and Jason omitted at his monotone.

 

“Wow, you sure hate a lot of things,” Whizzer commented, folding his arms across his chest that was barely covered in a tight lime shirt. Not that Marvin was paying attention to Whizzer’s fashion choices.

 

“Including you,” Marvin sneered, and with this, he stuck out his tongue crudely. Trina tutted at her ex-boyfriend as if she was scolding a child. Whizzer gave him the finger in return, the gesture only making Marvin chuckle wildly. Cordelia glanced between the two men, and somehow, Marvin could see the wheels churning in her head. It was disturbing, but he understood that when Cordelia wanted something, she would see it through that she would get it.

 

“You know what? I’ve got a great idea!” She sprinted over to Marvin and Whizzer, wrapping her arms in a choke-hold like friendliness, purposefully pulling them closer to her. Jason let go of his father’s hand with a giggle at the sight of a staggering Marvin. “How about you two pretend to date?” Mendel burst out into loud snorts, Trina covering her mouth with her hand at Marvin and Whizzer’s gaped expressions.

 

“Why would that benefit either of us?” Whizzer gasped out through his shock, blinking rapidly as Cordelia grinned pointedly at him and squeezed her arm around his neck, causing him to let out a short breath of air in surprise. Charlotte snickered.

 

“Well, you can bother your family by showing off your hot, older boyfriend, and then in return you’ll show Marvin the best parts of Las Vegas and clear the west coast’s name in his mind! Everyone will be happy!” Cordelia cheered, Marvin sighing into her armpit, as he had been unfortunately yanked there in his effort to free himself from her death-vice grip.

 

“Okay?” She asked the two, voice going deeper as she leaned over to whisper something fiercely in his ear. Whizzer’s ears turned pink, and Marvin had to shut his eyes in order to place his focus back onto Cordelia, who was now smiling sweetly down at both of them.

 

“Okay. I guess this is okay. I do like upsetting homophobic people, for how much I dislike you,” Marvin agreed reluctantly, scowling at Jason, who had let out a little whoop. Whizzer was frozen, but Cordelia just assumed he was also on board with the whole plan, and removed her arms.

 

“Great! Let’s all get into this airport now, before we miss our flight,” She suggested, gesturing to the doors. Trina took Jason’s suitcase, and led him along with the rest of the group into the crowded airport. Whizzer eyed Marvin, who was already staring at him quizzically.

 

“Is that hand-holding thing still on the table?” He questioned weakly, shrugging off Cordelia’s strange behavior in an effort to dismiss the uncomfortable atmosphere between him and Whizzer. Whizzer grinned goofily down at him, teeth shining in the sunlight, and Marvin officially understand that he was utterly screwed.

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 9.30 AM Pacific Time**

 

Marvin fiddled with the ends of his jacket as Whizzer shuffled uneasily beside him, both standing at the edge of the former’s childhood home. Neither seemed to want to leap forward and ring the doorbell staring menacingly at them, though it was inevitably Whizzer’s job. After all, this was his estranged family, not Marvin’s.

 

“Come on. You were the one who wanted to come anyway,” Marvin rolled his eyes. Whizzer shooting him a quick glare as he puffed out his chest in an effort to seem more confident about the situation.

 

“For the last time, I didn’t want to come to this shithole. It’s just by circumstance,” Whizzer hissed through his teeth in a reply, Marvin snorting as the taller moved to knock on the door. He could practically feel Marvin’s eyes on his ass. He repressed the urge to taunt him about it, along with a similar tug to run as far as he could before one of his family members opened the door. He stepped back beside Marvin, and allowed the man to grip his hand. For show, of course. A pretty, slightly older woman swung the door open, golden cross glinting in the sunlight against her collarbones. She frowned at the two men and their interlocked hands.

 

“I’m sorry, who are you?” She questioned confusedly, the sorrow in her sentence not sounding the least bit apologetic. Whizzer returned her expression, eyeing her long, yellow-spotted sundress and wavy black hair that reached towards the ends of her shoulders.

 

“Is this the Brown household?” Whizzer ignored her prior inquiry. The woman nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowing as she tried to decipher what was occurring in front of her. “I’m…Micah, and this is Marvin.” Marvin’s eyes grew comically wide, along with the woman’s, both twisting to stare at Whizzer. The younger shifted uncomfortably under the unwanted gaze.

 

“Your real name is Micah?” Marvin asked in disbelief, as the woman murmured something under her breath. Whizzer shrugged his shoulders awkwardly, feeling his face flush over the proximity of the other man.

 

“I changed it after I left,” he shuffled his feet, and luckily, Marvin took his uncomfortable stance as a signal to not push the conversation further.

 

“You’re the homosexual,” She affirmed with slight awe, tapping her red lips with the back of her thumb. Whizzer nodded at her conclusion, waving he and Marvin’s connected hands as a way of showing proof.

“In the flesh,” Whizzer replied awkwardly. The woman pondered this for a moment, before stepping away in an effort to allow both Whizzer and his companion through the door. Marvin gave her a grim smile, and followed Whizzer through his childhood home’s doorway, hands still tightly connected.

At the sight of the photographs and natural tidiness, Whizzer was flooded with childhood memories of playing with his siblings in the foyer they were stood in. The woman watched them warily from the door, as if she thought they might start having sex at any moment. Instead, Whizzer just looked at the once familiar scenery with watery eyes and an amazed expression on his face.

 

“It hasn’t changed a bit,” Whizzer whispered to Marvin, who was ignoring the decor, choosing to stare at the other with a small smile on his face.

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Marvin replied, Whizzer grinning dopily down at him, though his tears outshined his giddiness. The woman twisted past them, motioning for them to follow her down a hallway. They walked cautiously, side by side until they exited into a living room. There were a few people milling around, who didn't glance up from their conversations.

 

“Linda?” The woman called out, causing Whizzer to let out a short gasp, before he slapped a hand over his mouth in complete embarrassment. An older woman rounded the corner, hair pulled into a tight bun, lips pressed roughly together. She eyed Whizzer, and a wave of shock passed over her eyes, yet her facial expression did not change.

 

“Mom!” Whizzer yelped, and made to hug her. The old woman moved out of his way, Linda, Marvin assumed, and gave him a disgusted look. Whizzer’s entire face crumpled, as did his posture.

 

“Micah,” His mother acknowledged him with a curt nod. “In all honesty, I wasn’t expecting you…or your friend to come.” Marvin linked his arm with the broken Whizzer beside him, trying to conjure up the confidence Whizzer had held on the plane ride over.

 

“I’m his boyfriend, Marvin Cohen,” He stuck out his empty hand in an attempt to show chivalry. Linda just eyed the hand with a look of wariness, and then tilted her head towards the woman who had shown them through.

 

“Mary, go back to your husband. Leave them be,” Linda commanded her, and she scurried away.

 

“Um, if you could, I’d-we’d prefer you calling Whizzer by his actual name. Not the one you gave him,” Marvin told her, Linda huffing.

 

“I’ve already let you into my house. Isn’t that enough for your kind?” She questioned, but didn’t give a completely negative answer. “The rest of the family is outside in the backyard. You can join them, if you would like.” With that, she flurried away, leaving Whizzer and Marvin standing in the hallway entrance into the adjoining living room.

 

“She’s just as prissy as she used to be,” Whizzer sighed defeatedly, Marvin glancing down at the tall man on his arm.

“What a sweet son you are,” Marvin observed, his companion rolling his eyes and straightening his spine, a bit of the usual Whizzer appearing onto his face. “Let’s go out and just… don’t collapse like that again.” He patted Whizzer’s shoulder, who gave him a good natured glare. The two turned and headed towards the glass doors onto the deck. Sliding the door open, Marvin removed his arm from Whizzer’s grip and instead pulled it against his waist as a sign of protection against whatever forces they were to meet once they stepped out the door.

Everyone seemed to be sectioned into small groups of two, most likely married couples. There were children running around in the grass beside the heightened deck. Conversation didn’t stop when they appeared, again, since no one was really expecting their estranged gay brother or cousin to appear with his boyfriend through the sliding door. Whizzer’s eyes lit up as he yanked Marvin towards a corner with a redheaded girl and a brown-haired boy, who held a slight resemblance to Whizzer.

 

“Hey, Steven,” Whizzer called out to get his attention, he and Marvin keeping their distance. Steven’s head shot up at the sound of the other man’s voice.

 

“Did you just hear Micah, or was that in my mind?” He whispered frantically to his wife, who nodded worriedly in response.

 

“Actually, it’s Whizzer now. I changed it when I was kicked out,” Whizzer corrected him, Steven whipping around excitedly. With a yell of happiness, he tackled his brother in a hug, Marvin so surprised he let go of Whizzer. The two men collided, Steven sniffling. His wife smiled softly at the two.

 

“You’re back! I thought I would never see you again,” He gushed, pulling back with tears in his eyes. His expression was mirrored by Whizzer, who laughed out of shock of the warm welcome.

 

“I came back for dad’s funeral. I couldn’t miss it,” Whizzer’s eyes landed on Marvin, who was awkwardly standing beside Steven’s wife. “We couldn’t miss it.” At the plural pronoun, Steven turned his head to look at Marvin, who shifted his feet.

 

“Is this your boyfriend?” He asked, no disgust flooding into his speech, surprisingly. Whizzer grinned widely at Marvin, eyes shining with another emotion besides pure joy, though Marvin couldn’t pick out what.

 

“Yeah, I’m his boyfriend. The name’s Marvin,” He stuck out his hand in the same way he had done for Linda, only this time the responder took it and shook it firmly.

 

“That’s my wife, Rachel, and our kids, Emmett, and Molly,” He pointed a finger at two little children playing with a ball in the yard. “Anyway, how have you been, Mic-Whizzer?” Whizzer took a deep breath, face expression falling slightly at the mention of all those years ago when he had left.

 

“I got by. Um, Cordelia and I ran off together after mom and dad kicked me out. I met Marvin, his ex-girlfriend, Trina, Trina’s husband, Mendel, Cordelia’s now wife, Charlotte, and Marvin’s son, Jason, out in New York City,” Whizzer explained, not bothering to add in the details of having to whore himself out to find a place to sleep those first few years. Steven’s eyebrows raised.

 

“That’s a complex family. You dated a woman?” The question he directed at Marvin, who jabbed his hands into his pocket and nodded.

 

“Yeah, my son’s seventeen. We had him when we were eighteen, and then I figured out I was gay, and Trina and I decided to stay just good friends, but raise Jason together,” Marvin explained, not looking up from his gaze on the ground.

 

“How about you and Rachel? Last time I heard you were dating a girl named…Shelly? Was that her name?” Whizzer furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember the name of Steven’s high school sweetheart. Steven smiled at him.

 

“Wow, I wouldn’t have expected you to remember her,” He blinked, resting a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “I met Rachel in college, and we hit it off. You were going to be invited to the wedding, but…” He sighed, the unfinished sentence hanging in the air. Whizzer swallowed roughly, and smiled tightly at his brother.

 

“It’s alright, I understand,” He replied shakily. “So, uh, do you guys still live in Las Vegas, or is that just old news now?” He changed the conversation welcomingly.

 

“We still live in Las Vegas,” He told his brother, Rachel nodding along with him. “I couldn’t part with it. I don’t even know how you could.”

 

“It was never a real home for me,” Whizzer admitted. “Besides, my photography business really thrives out East.” Steven grinned.

 

“I’d sure hope so. Man, I remember you and that old Polaroid camera you found in the basement. You were obsessed with that thing! I don’t think you could have gone into any other profession,” He reminisced, Whizzer’s eyesight fading as he imagined the memories of taking photos with his family.

 

“Yeah, it’s my passion. Cordelia is a caterer, just so you know. It’s surprising, since she’s a god-awful cook, but most of the time she pulls through,” Whizzer chuckled, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

 

“Remember when she put hot sauce in that chilli she made for Tom when he was sick?” Steven clackled. Whizzer smirked.

 

“I’m pretty sure she just did that on purpose. Tom was a terrible person to her,” Whizzer refrained from cursing, in order to not upset anyone else. Marvin eyed the two brothers warily.

 

“Everyone was a terrible person to you two. Even when we were kids, I knew there was something different,” Steven commented. Rachel winced behind him, obviously knowing that he’d hit a sore spot. Whizzer visibly slackened his posture, something he rarely did.

 

“Thanks for being welcoming, Steven. I really needed it,” He thanked his brother, Marvin bouncing over to him so that Whizzer could once again sink into his embrace. “But I think Marvin and I are gonna just go now and return when the dinner happens.” Steven’s face crumbled, appearing innocent and naive.

 

“But, you just got here! You haven’t even talked to anyone else yet!” He pleaded with Whizzer, who just buried his face into Marvin’s shirt, clenching his eyes shut tightly.

 

“It’s really taking a toll on him. He’s not usually like this,” Marvin shrugged, glancing down with a spreading blush at Whizzer, who certainly had never clung to him this much before. “I think we’re just gonna go around Las Vegas. I’ve never been.” Rachel nodded knowingly.

 

“Goodbye,” Her voice was pretty, and feminine, matching her outward image well. She was the physical embodiment of what Whizzer’s mother would have wanted him to marry. She waved them off, and as the two men walked away, Marvin caught a glimpse of Rachel pulling her husband down to whisper an explanation in his ear.

 

“You collapsed on me again,” Marvin murmured in Whizzer’s ear, the other man shooting him a quick glare. But Marvin didn’t drop his hold on Whizzer until they had gotten in a cab, and Whizzer didn’t ask him to do so.

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 12.00 AM Pacific Time**

 

Jason tugged Mendel along excitedly, marveling at all the lights. His stepfather, though, did not seem as excited as he was.

“I bet the lights are amazing at night! We should totally come back out at night when we go to the casinos,” He gushed, Mendel stopping in his tracks abruptly. Jason let go of his arm, stumbling in an effort to halt along with the older male.

 

“We’re not going to the casinos, Jason, that’s the last straw,” He ordered his stepson, who pouted in his direction.

 

“Please! I’ve got a driver’s license,” Jason pressed his hands together in a praying motion, Mendel scoffing at him.

 

“That doesn’t mean you’re gonna get into a casino. Jason, you’re seventeen, not eighteen. If we come back any other year besides this one, I’ll let you do whatever you want, with your own money of course, but not now,” Mendel ordered sternly, Jason unrelentingly switching on the Bambi eyes.

 

“Mom wouldn’t find out about it, if you’re worried. Besides, what if I’m really good, and I get a bunch of money for my college funds?” He pressed on, Mendel diverting his eyes, as his weakness was also Jason Cohen. Everyone’s was.

 

“Your mother would kill me, and she will find out about this if we go through with it. She always finds out,” He told him, firm and decidedly. Jason raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

 

“You won’t be able to go to the casinos if you don’t take me,” Jason sing-songed, bouncing back and forth on his heels. Mendel sighed defeatedly at the image of the two winning loads of money together.

 

“Alright, alright, fine, I’ll get you a fake I.D,” Mendel agreed, Jason screeching happily in response. He pumped his fists into the air, breaking into dance on the Las Vegas sidewalk. Mendel wondered whether or not there were any available plane tickets for him to grab up so he could get back to New York City.

 

“Great! I saw a guy back there,” Jason jabbed a quick finger behind him, “who was advertising for them.” Mendel rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to get dragged off, despite the growing storm of worry in his stomach.

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 1.30 PM Pacific Time**

 

Trina regretted leaving for a bar at twelve. It wasn’t even three yet, and she already had a shot in front of her. But she was still stone-cold sober, because she didn’t want to admit that she needed the alcohol like a baby needed milk. The trip was already taking a toll on her. For one thing, Mendel and Jason had run off without even saying goodbye, and she had challenged her husband in order to prove that she could have fun.

 

_It’s not like Trina didn’t think this Vegas vacation was a good idea. She just knew she’d probably spend the entire weekend too freaked out by the new sights to leave she and Mendel’s hotel room. Bright lights scared her. Loud and crowded spaces were not her comfort zones. She much rather would curl up in one of those uncomfortable motel beds and watch staticy America’s Got Talent until she fell asleep to the lull of another terrible audition and the cheering of crowds. This time, though, would be different than any of the college parties she had ever been to. For one, she would not accidentally sleep with a gay man, nor would she hide in the bathroom and sobbingly call her mother because she was terrified of the drunk frats on the lawn. She would have fun, dammit. Even if it killed her._

_“Babe, what are you doing?” Mendel asked confusedly as Trina rushed about their hotel room, digging through her suitcase with a fire she only used when cooking friday night family dinners. She glanced up from her hasty mess-making to peer at her husband, who was furrowing the actual caterpillars he called eyebrows in her general direction._

 

_“I’m trying to find something other than sweaters to wear outside. I wanna have fun, you know?” She pumped a fist in the air feebly, attempting to bring more power to her point. Mendel stepped closer to her, wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, chuckles rumbling into her temple._

 

_“Honey, you look beautiful right now. Besides, you don’t have to drag yourself along with Jason and I if you don’t want to,” Mendel told her, beaming slightly. Trina jutted out her hip, face narrowing in playful spite._

 

_“You don’t think I’ve got the guts to take Las Vegas to the fullest, do you?” She questioned him with an eyebrow raise. In answer, Mendel shrugged his shoulders, stepping back from his wife with an amused smile on his lips._

 

_“You refuse to go on the subway because we once saw someone in a Lobster costume and you still sometimes have nightmares about that incident,” Mendel reminded her calmly, Trina guffawing._

 

_“It was terrifying!” She exclaimed to defend herself, then brushed non-existent dust off of her blouse. “Besides, that’s not the point. I will not be scared of Vegas, I will have fun, and if you so truly want to spend our night here with Jason, then you can. I’ll go off and find some way cooler people to hang out with.” Mendel shook his head fondly._

 

_“You sound like a toddler,” He breathed through his nose, then nodded at Trina mischievously. “Alright. Just don’t go too crazy. Wouldn’t want you waking up on the other side of Nevada or something.” With that, he disappeared into the bathroom, and Trina mimicked his final words towards his back. She shook off the worried feeling and turned back to her suitcase, secretly wondering whether or not she could borrow one of Cordelia’s crop tops._

 

Well, that was a mistake, evidently, as it seemed Trina physically and mentally _could not_ relax. Mendel had been right, she had grown into being a mother at eighteen and had never had the chance to really be a child. She was thirty-five, for god’s sake. She deserved to have some fun for once. There was rustling, and then a girl slid up beside her, dressed in only a too-thin bikini. She looked so different from Trina, as the older woman was still wearing a sweater due to the fact that the lesbians had bolted in order to get onto a game show when they first arrived. So she hadn’t borrowed a crop top. So she still looked fifty. Trina felt as though she was about to throw up. Not because the girl wasn’t pretty, since she was, with ringlets of blond curls rolling down her back and a quirk of a smile on her face, but Trina didn’t want to be bothered at that moment. She wanted to drown her feelings in non-booze, since Mendel would most likely chastise her the next day if she had a hangover.

 

“Hello, fine lady,” The stripper giggled, and Trina rolled her eyes into the glass of her shot. Taking it in one hand, she rolled it around in her palm.

 

“I’m not looking for a lap dance,” Trina droned on lifelessly. “By any sex.” She added as an afterthought. The stripper looked put out for a moment, before snapping back to a smile.

 

“Are you sure? We’re having a special today,” She winked at Trina then. The mother looked at her steely, and then chugged the shot down.

 

“Leave me alone, heathen,” She commanded the stripper. The girl laughed, throwing up her hands in a mock I’m-innocent way.

 

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you alone for now. Why are you at a stripper bar at one thirty anyway, if you don’t want a lap dance?” The stripper raised an eyebrow, Trina huffing out a breath annoyedly.

 

“I want to be left alone,” Trina snapped, the stripper raising an eyebrow before motioning to get herself a drink.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want company? Not sexual company, I guess, but just friendly company. You look pretty tense,” The stripper commented, Trina rolling her eyes.

 

“I always look tense,” She replied, the stripper grinning. Her white teeth reflected off of the dim lights of the strip club.

 

“I’m Angel,” She stuck out her hand, and Trina shook it slowly. She removed her hand, and the bartender passed Angel her drink quickly.

 

“Trina,” The older woman spoke through pursed lips, then allowed herself to relax. Just slightly, though. “And I guess I am tense. My husband and son abandoned me for the casinos.” Angel chuckled.

 

“I don’t know what that feels like,” She admitted. “I don’t have a son or a husband.” Trina shot her a quick glare.

 

“Oh, really?” She snarled sarcastically. “I never would have guessed.” Angel smiled at her bad mood, obviously having fun toying with her.

 

“Loosen up, you’re in Vegas!” Angel screeched, and flung an arm around Trina’s shoulders, who shifted uncomfortably. “Come on, have some fun.” She pushed her drink towards Trina, who eyed it uncertainly.

 

“You said it yourself. It’s 1:30 in the afternoon,” Trina argued, Angel shrugging indecisively.

 

“There’s never a better time to get wasted!” She cheered, and took the drink for herself. Trina watched in slight horror as the stripper beside her chugged the beverage down.

 

“You’re absolutely insane. Why did I agree to go onto this trip in the first place?” She murmured, half to herself, halfway to her new companion. Angel just tightened her grip around Trina’s neck, and tugged her close.

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine! At least, with me,” Angel’s eyes lit up, and Trina began to regret ever leaving her now-blessed hotel room.

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 2.00 PM Pacific Time**

 

Whizzer put on the clashing yellow sunglasses, sliding them back so far onto the bridge of his nose that his eyes practically disappeared. Marvin watched with amusement as his companion glanced at himself in the mirror.

 

“I’m glad you’ve recovered from the visit with your family, but is spending all of my money on sunglasses really necessary?” Marvin joked, Whizzer taking off the sunglasses with a chuckle. He placed them back on the rack, then turned to Marvin with a strange expression on his face.

 

“Hey, you’re not being an asshole to me, and you’re offering, so why shouldn’t I take it up?” Whizzer shrugged, gesturing for Marvin to follow him out of the tourist shop. They trudged onto the busy street, the cars whirling by in front of them so fast that a wisp of Whizzer’s hair fell onto his forehead. It was cuter than Marvin should have thought.

 

“I’m not being an asshole towards you because of how bitchy your family appears to be,” Marvin explained, the two beginning to walk down the sidewalk. “Can’t imagine how it must have been like to grow up in that house.”

 

“They didn’t even let me watch Will & Grace,” Whizzer pouted playfully, then dropped the persona. “Yeah, it was a hellhole. That’s why I got out so quickly after my mom chucked me from the family tree. Like a bad apple. Or an annoying relative.” He pondered that for a moment.

 

“Like me!” He attempted a grin in Marvin’s direction. His companion did not respond in the same way, only tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

 

“Whizzer, you obviously need to talk about this,” Marvin told him seriously. Whizzer let out a dramatic groan at that.

 

“Come on, can’t we just spend the time where I’m not emotionally drained by my estranged family members not getting me a counseling session? I’m fine,” Whizzer spit out, Marvin shrugging in his direction.

 

“Well, you want to talk about it, I’m here,” Marvin offered, Whizzer scoffing. He sped his pace, Marvin practically tripping over his feet to catch up with his long legs.

 

“Like you actually care. We hate each other, remember?” Whizzer rolled his eyes, taking out his actual sunglasses and sliding them onto his face. He pursed his lips, and things were awkwardly silent between them for a moment.

“My mom never really liked me,” Whizzer spoke after a minute, stopping suddenly. Marvin skittered to a stop, and stepped out of the oncoming foot traffic. Whizzer did the same, not bothering to take off his sunglasses.

 

“She’d always call me out for being too girly or too needy,” Whizzer continued. “But I grew up with one brother and five sisters, so it was difficult to understand what she wanted me to be. She’d always choose Steven over me, in everything. My father didn’t really like me either, but not as much as her.”

 

“I bet she was jealous,” Marvin attempted a grin, Whizzer smiling strangely at him once more. Marvin fiddled with the insides of his jeans, as that was all he could do to resist kissing the man right then and there.

 

“Then, I came out, and instantly I was on the road to New York City with Cordelia. She cut off all communication between me and my family, my dad, my sisters, my brother,” Whizzer sniffled slightly, and Marvin uncomfortably realized he was about to start crying on a public sidewalk in the middle of Las Vegas. “Her side of the family is Catholic, so that’s why I refuse to go into one of those churches. I faked sick when Jason’s friend was having his confirmation. I took my father’s religion because-because I felt more wanted with them than I had ever with her”

 

“Oh, okay, it’s gonna be like this,” Marvin murmured as he wrapped his arms around his so-called enemy, clutching him tight to his chest as Whizzer let out small sobs.

 

“You don't have to deal with me, if you don't want to,” Whizzer told him, Marvin instead choosing to allow him to sink deeper into his embrace.

 

“I know your relationship with your family is really messed up,” Marvin consoled. “But you know, they're not your real family.” Whizzer lifted his head from Marvin’s shirt, puffy and saddened, suddenly, they were alone, no Las Vegas anywhere.

 

“You can chose your family, and you have. Charlotte and Cordelia, Mendel and Trina, and Jason are your real family,” Marvin told him confidently, sucking in a breath. “I’m your family.” Whizzer smiled at him gratefully, then stepped backwards awkwardly.

 

“There’s this ice cream place we can visit, if you want to,” He offered, Marvin nodding bashfully, the world coming back in around him.

 

“That’s a good idea,” Marvin told him, the two beginning to stroll once more, although there was a bit more tension between them than before.

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 3.00 PM Pacific Time**

 

Charlotte fidgeted nervously beside her wife for a moment, Cordelia taking her hand excitedly. The two were stood towards the front of a line leading into a most likely wonderfully air conditioned building, where they would be interviewed and processed to see if they were a good enough pair to go on -

 

“Couples Clashing!” A man and his fiancee lowered their voices in order to copy the actual announcer, both adorned with shirts reading “Punsatwey Pride” on them. Cordelia smiled at the young love, even if she and Charlotte were only about thirty-two.

 

“They want representation. We’ll give it to them!” Cordelia promised Charlotte, who rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her wife.

 

“I can’t believe this was the only reason you actually agreed to go to Las Vegas. What about supporting Whizzer?” Charlotte asked, shaking her head as Cordelia shrugged, their hands still loosely connected between them.

 

“Marvin’ll support him just fine,” She replied with, a strange twinkled entering her soft brown eyes. Instead of questioning her, since Charlotte had long-since learned that would do nothing, she just leaned forward and connected their lips loosely, Cordelia giggling into the kiss. They pulled apart, and the couple in front of them disappeared into the building with a cheer of excitement. Charlotte smiled at their retreating backs, then back at Cordelia.

 

“Do you think Whizzer is doing alright?” Charlotte wondered after a peaceful moment of silence, the guards on either sides of the doors pointedly ignoring their conversation.

“He’s gonna be fine. Whizzer’s like a cat. He always lands on his feet. I’m just happy Marvin even agreed to go with him,” Cordelia told her reassuringly, Charlotte nodding.

 

“Why’d you even convince them to be fake boyfriends in the first place? Please don’t tell me it was just a spontaneous plot to try and get them together,” Charlotte raised an eyebrow, only really half-joking. Cordelia shook her head at her guess.

 

“Well, it’s more for Whizzer’s benefit than Marvin’s. Whizzer’s parents told him that he’d never find anyone that loved him before they kicked him out, so that’s another way to prove his mom wrong. Also, I trust Marvin enough to stop Whizzer from getting blackout drunk after they inevitably go to a bar so that Whizzer can drink his feelings,” Cordelia explained, Charlotte kissing the corner of her mouth lovingly.

 

“You’re the sweetest, Dee,” She complimented, her wife pinking adorably. There was a call from inside, and they were strolling through the door. Inside was a small foyer, with a few other waiting couples for the announcements of who would be on the show and who would not. They were beckoned by the seated woman beside the one door into an office to follow her through, where the judges from Couples Clashing sat, all appearing bored out of their minds. At the sight of the lesbians though, they perked up. Cordelia nudged Charlotte’s shoulder excitedly as if to say “I told you so” silently. They sat down in the two chairs across from the three, and the door was shut.

 

“Are you Charlotte and Cordelia DuBois?” Matthew Weaver, the comic relief of the trio, questioned them, flipping through multiple pages that probably listed all of the possible couples.

 

“Yep!” Cordelia squeaked, Charlotte squeezing her hand to calm her down considerably so they didn’t blow the audition.

“What do you guys do for a living?” The only woman at the table, Linda Johnson, blinked so slowly it appeared as though she was winking with both eyes.

 

“I’m a radiologist, and Dee’s a caterer,” Charlotte told them, smiling at her wife, who sighed thankfully.

 

“How long have you do been together?” The third judge, Nick Patterson, crinkled the edges of his eyes.

 

“Fifteen years. We met when me and my best friend Whizzer Brown ran away to New York City,” Cordelia told them honestly, lifting her and Charlotte’s connected hands into her lap so that she could toy with Charlotte’s wedding ring.

 

“Do you guys like this show?” Matt questioned them, Charlotte and Cordelia both shrugging.

 

“We’ve never actually watched it, but Whizzer watches it almost religiously,” Cordelia explained, the judges shrugging towards each other. Charlotte raised an eyebrow towards them, observing how utterly put out they looked.

 

“Do you guys have children, or…” Matt set the clipboard filled with names aside, Charlotte understanding that these questions were unnecessary due to the dollar signs that had appeared in the three judges eyes when they had first walked in. They were going to get on the show due to the fact they were a lesbian married couple. It didn’t matter how many children they had.

 

“Kind of,” Cordelia answered with. “We’re godparents to this kid named Jason, who’s the son of our friends Marvin and Trina, who are broken up, so Jason also has a step-father named Mendel. Also, Whizzer’s kind of like his father, even if Marvin and Whizzer aren’t dating or anything.” The judges stared at them in confused silence. Charlotte tried to stifle her laughter at the blunt way her wife had put everything.

 

“Is Marvin gay?” Linda furrowed her eyebrows, neither of her co-workers calling her out for not using the listed questions. Charlotte and Cordelia smiled at each other. They were getting them to come out of comatose.

 

“Yeah, that’s why he and Trina broke up. Along with the fact that he’s been in love with Whizzer for about five years now,” Charlotte told them, Cordelia unable to hide her chuckling. The three judges shared a look, then turned back to the duo sitting in front of them.

 

“Ladies,” Nick began, letting a small smile peek through, “you are officially on Couples Clashing. Congratulations.”

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 4.00 PM Pacific Time**

 

“Isn’t it a little early to be in a casino?” Mendel questioned his step-son, though his doubts fell on deaf ears. Jason marveled at the lights and crowdedness of the flashing building, hands cupped as his eyes widened.

 

“It’s never too early to get rich!” With that, he whooped, and jabbed a fist in the air. Mendel shook his head, trudging after Jason as he ducked through the masses.

 

“If you wanted to get rich, you should have just invested in the stock market,” Mendel suggested unhelpfully. “Casinos are just ploys to take your money. Like those games on the boardwalk.”

 

“Oh yeah!” Jason’s lips spread into a grin. “Like that one time Whizzer got so good at that dart throwing game that he emptied the stand. That was hilarious.”

 

“It was also because he was flirting with the worker,” Mendel grumbled, and then stood carefully next to Jason once he’d plopped down at an empty table. “Jason, please don’t spend too much money. Your mother is going to have my head on a stick anyway.”

 

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Jason waved him off. “I got this under control. I’ve watched National Lampoon’s Vegas Vacation at least ten times.” Mendel slapped a hand to his forehead, and counted to ten under his breath. He’d need to control himself due to the fact that his stepson was a complete idiot.

 

“You know how to play blackjack, kid?” The dealer raised a fuzzy eyebrow, Jason wrinkling his nose just slightly.

 

“Nice eyebrows,” He complimented distastefully. The dealer’s eyebrows went up even higher. “And yeah, who doesn’t?” Jason didn’t. Mendel let out another sigh. The dealer shuffled the cards, and dealt both he and Jason some. One card was flipped up for both. An ace for Jason, a two of hearts for the dealer.

 

“In this game, that’s gonna equal eleven,” The dealer gestured to the card. “A soft ace.” Jason rolled his eyes, and began jiggling his knee, a telltale sign that he was quickly growing bored by this conversation.

 

“How much are you betting?” The dealer pursed his lips in satisfaction, Mendel resisting the urge to get Jason the hell out there before he completely destroyed his bank account.

 

“A _thousand_ dollars!” Jason grinned toothily, the dealer gaping at him. Mendel was wearing the same expression, staring at his step-son in utter shock. “Let’s play!” The dealer flipped over his other card to reveal a six of clubs. He shook his head at his cards, then leaned back in his chair. Jason excitedly revealed the next card, which was a ten of spades. The dealer let out a sharp intake of breath through his nose, as Jason looked inquisitively at Mendel, who was staring at the cards in absolute surprise.

 

“Did I win?” Jason questioned, the dealer scrambling for the phone that was attached to the desk they were playing at. Mendel closed his mouth, then allowed it to reopen.

 

“You just added a thousand dollars to our bank account,” He choked out, Jason cheering happily. He hopped down from the chair, and lifted up a fist for his step-father to punch.

 

“This is gonna be the best night of our lives, Mendel, my man,” Jason promised, Mendel weakly also creating a fist before his stepson dashed off into the masses. Mendel gave his card to the dealer, whose hands were shaking slightly, and then rushed off to find his companion, a low, regretful burn erupting in his stomach.

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 5.30 PM Pacific Time**

 

Whizzer hadn’t wanted to come to this hellish diner in the first place. In fact, at the beginning of this whole thing, his original plan was to watch late night television in his hotel room alone. But that was not the case.

“It’s okay, if it gets too overwhelming, we can just leave like we did earlier today,” Marvin reassured him as they stood outside the restaurant. Whizzer shot him an unimpressed look.

 

“You know, you can stop with the whole supportive act. We’ve got a mutual agreement to hate each other,” Whizzer told him honestly, Marvin dropping the hand that was on Whizzer’s shoulder in comfort. His face appeared flushed in the lighting of the outside lamps.

 

“I-I know. I just wanted to be a good friend. Since we do tolerate each other,” Marvin stuttered out in a rush, Whizzer ignoring his awkward tendencies. Marvin was a strange person, Whizzer had already decided that.

 

“Shall we go in?” Whizzer changed the subject abruptly, Marvin letting out a small sigh of relief. The two men strolled through the front doors into the lobby. There was a petite girl stood at the center of it all, typing furiously into a computer. She smiled once she looked up at them, and stopped her frantic keyboarding.

 

“Do you two have a reservation?” She chirped, sifting through papers beside her on the tall desk she was resting at. Marvin glanced over at Whizzer, who wrung his hands in her direction.

 

“We’re actually just joining a table. Um, Brown? Probably about eight seats? I’m sorry, I don’t really know how many people were coming,” Whizzer guessed apologetically. She smiled at him reassuringly, seemingly extra chipper.

 

“Oh, it’s okay! I trust that you two aren’t just attempting to sneak in here. It’s not like this place is good enough for that,” She winked conspicuously at them, and then picked up two menus. “Follow me! I know what table you’re talking about.” She beckoned for them to walk with her, and they did, albeit awkwardly.

 

“You know, the Brown family lost one of their sons a while ago,” She spoke conversationally, strolling through the main dining area. Whizzer took in the old scenery, and memories from this place in his high school days with Cordelia began to sprout. His blood ran cold, though, when the waitress mentioned him. “Heard he was gay. Well, between you and me, I don’t think that’s enough to kick one of your children out.” She lowered her voice at the last sentence.

 

“But don’t tell my boss I said that. He’ll fire me since I’m not allowed to give out opinions to customers on the job,” She giggled, tittering in her spot slightly, and then gestured to an almost full table. “There you go! All set!” Handing them their menus, she wandered away, waving joyfully. Whizzer and Marvin exchanged a glance with the other.

 

“She seemed a bit… intoxicated,” Marvin chuckled to fill the silence, and Whizzer smiled at him thankfully. The topic of whether or not Marvin should support him outside of the acting job seemed to fade a little bit from the front of his mind. They took their seats, side by side one another, as Whizzer’s mother watched them warily from across the table.

 

“Are you sure we should have let them sit next to each other?” She whispered quite loudly to what looked like Whizzer’s uncle, who shrugged indifferently. Whizzer gritted his teeth, and Marvin gripped his thigh underneath the table. Reassuringly, of course. Not because he had wanted to.

 

“What are you doing out in New York City now, Micah?” Whizzer’s aunt questioned from beside him, taking a large bite of her appetizer salad.

 

“I’m a photographer. Marv’s a realtor,” Whizzer told them honestly, praying they wouldn’t take jabs at either of their jobs. An realtor pays the bills, they would say, being a photographer is just a hobby.

 

“Do you have to use that pet name?” Whizzer’s mother hissed to him. “I let you come to the dinner and bring your boy. Isn’t that enough?” In response, Whizzer wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue childishly. His mother sighed dramatically and leaned back in her seat.

“A realtor, huh? Steve is a teacher,” Rachel told them, breaking the silence. “He teaches fifth grade. Loves the heck out of those kids, but it doesn’t really pay the bills. So I’m a lawyer.” She took a small piece out of her bread, smiling into the food as Steven wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

 

“Huh. I thought for sure you were gonna go into science like you wanted to when you were younger, Steve,” Whizzer commented, tapping his fork against his empty plate. His brother ducked his head guiltily.

“Yeah, I was, but then I met Rachel and I attempted to change majors to be closer to her,” He spoke bashfully, his mother glaring holes into the side of his head. Rachel rolled her eyes at her husband.

 

“He loves teaching, though. It was fate that he switched colleges and majors in order to follow me to law school,” She told Whizzer and Marvin, who smiled at her reassuringly. Whizzer’s mother seemed very disagreeable.

 

“You know, I met Marvin through my job. I was stationed to take photos for their work IDs,” Whizzer spoke in order to lift the subject off his brother, the small group of gathered family members eyeing him now.

 

‘You met on the job?” Whizzer’s uncle asked in disbelief. Whizzer played with his napkin, avoiding eye contact with his family members desperately.

 

“Yeah, um, I took his picture and right after I did he broke down in front of me because he thought he was a terrible father and his actual physiatrist did nothing,” Whizzer explained truthfully, smiling slightly at the embarrassing memory. Marvin elbowed him in the side roughly, Whizzer squeaking before pulling himself back together. “But then we went on a date and he seemed a bit better.” Whizzer’s mother rolled up her top lip, and a different waitress strolled over to take their orders. Neither of the men had actually looked at the menu, but Whizzer seemed to remember enough about the place to order something. Marvin decided he’d just share whatever his fake boyfriend was getting.

 

“So, Marvin, what does your _son_ think about your relationship with another man?” Linda narrowed her eyes towards Marvin, who gazed back unrelentingly. It was evident Steven had spread the bit of information Whizzer had offered up.

 

“He’s happy for me,” Marvin’s tone was clipped, and the rest of the family watched uneasily as his hand tightened around the edge of his plate. “I’ve got full custody over him, and he thinks Whizzer put the stars in the sky, so I’m pretty sure that means he approves. Why do you care about my son anyway?” Whizzer watched nervously. _Did you really think you were gonna get through this night without an argument between your mother and someone else?_ A snide voice in the back of Whizzer’s mind sneered. He ignored it pointedly.

 

“Well, I was just wondering. I mean, I’ve heard homosexuality runs through genetics, and living with a gay father and his boyfriend must be detrimental to your child’s health-” She was cut off by Whizzer’s chair squeak, as he had stood up abruptly.

 

“Alright, I’m fucking done with your bullshit. You can insult me, you can insult my friends, you can insult Marvin for all I fucking care,” He spit out, jabbing a finger in her face. Rachel audibly gasped. “But you cannot insult Jason. That is too far, even if you are my mother.”

 

“I have tolerated you for as much as I can, but you and your bigoted mind are detrimental to the self-worth I’ve worked up for myself after you destroyed it fifteen years ago. I came back to see if I could fix this family, but I guess I can’t,” He snapped, and yanked on Marvin’s jacket. He came up instantly, face mixed with worry and slight fear at the man beside him. “We’re going, Marvin. It’s obvious we aren’t welcome here, due to the passive aggressive comments being traded between my family members.” Steven’s face fell apart as Whizzer stormed out, Marvin dragging behind him. His footsteps got angrier the faster they walked, and Marvin continually tripped over his shoes to catch up. Once outside, Marvin freed himself, and stared at Whizzer in pure shock.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He screeched, Whizzer gritting his teeth together and clenching his eyes shut. He smacked a hand to his forehead in rage, the noise rocketing off the outside lamps the two had previously noticed. They hadn’t even been in the restaurant for fifteen minutes.

 

“You want me to show you around Las Vegas?” Whizzer clacked humorlessly, referencing the “reason” Cordelia had paired them together in the first place. Marvin attempted to step away, but Whizzer shot out a hand to grab onto his arm tightly. Whizzer dropped his hand, and cracked open his eyes again. “Then I’ll show you around Vegas.”

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 6.00 PM Pacific Time**

 

Trina didn’t really understand how she had ended up here, in the back of a van with four strippers. Though all of them were off the job, they were still dressed in their costumes, and were slightly tipsy. She was stone-cold sober, but for some reason, she didn’t seem to mind their company. After she and Angel had explored the city, Angel took her under her wing and led her to this strange group of people. Trina didn’t know where they were driving, or when they would stop for dinner, but Trina didn’t have the heart to ask. These people had taken her in even if she was modestly dressed and was a mom in her late thirties.

 

“Well, I grew up in Texas,” The male stripper, Tom, started in Trina’s direction. The rest whooped, already having heard the story millions of times. “My family and I lived on a ranch. My dad left, and then my momma was left to defend my baby sister and I herself.” His tangy accent melted into his words as his eyes glazed over from the time gone by.

 

“So my momma, she bought me a tux and dolled me up, before sending me off into the great unknown of the rest of ‘Merica. Never saw my baby sister or my momma ever again,” He stopped to take a large swig of the wine bottle clutched in his hand. He turned back to the group then, eyes ablaze. “But I’m gonna get enough money one day to go back and support my family. I promise you that.” Angel wrapped an arm around his shoulders and laughed wholeheartedly, nose wrinkling as she clacked. Trina shifted in her seat, and noticed she was the only one wearing a seatbelt. The bus jottled.

 

“What about you, Trin? What’s your story? Why’d you end up in Vegas on a night like this anyhow?” Claire, the second of the female strippers questioned. She was squeezed up tightly against Trina, who appeared very uncomfortable by that. The others were too drunk to notice.

 

“Uh… I came with one of my good friends. He’s gone back for his dad’s funeral,” She explained, Louisa gasping from in front of Trina. “He hasn’t seen his family in a while after his mom kicked him out.”

 

“Are you talking about Micah Brown? Man, I used to go to highschool with that kid and his friend, Delia, or whatever he was,” Louisa tapped her chin at the thought. Trina raised an eyebrow.

 

“He’s Whizzer, now. He changed his name when he came to New York City with Cordelia,” She told her, Louisa nodding.

 

“I tried to ask him out. Turns out he was gay. I shoulda guessed by the whole popped collar thing he had goin’ on, but I assumed he and that blond doll were an item,” She chugged down a shot of vodka. Or something water colored. Trina didn’t want to ask.

 

“Yeah, he’s pretty gay. My ex-boyfriend, Marvin, who’s also gay, met him when they were taking ID pictures at his work. Marvin ended up breaking down and crying in front of him. It was hilarious,” Trina giggled at the memory of Marvin bashfully telling her after he had come to dinner that night.

 

“Okay. Start over. You keep mentioning people without explaining who they are!” Angel accused her, jabbing a finger in her direction. Trina shifted in her seat, and unfolded her hands to rub them against her jeans.

 

“Alright. I grew up in Omaha, Nebraska. I met Marvin when I was eighteen, and he got me pregnant with my son, Jason after we drunkenly hooked up. By the was, first night I had ever gotten drunk. My dad went ballistic and forbid us from seeing each other. Two years go by, and I find him at the same community college I was going to. We reconnect, but Marvin then tells me that he’s gay. I’m fine with that, he’s kinda a bitch. So we graduate college together and then take Jason over to New York City to raise him together. I met Mendel, my husband, after he came over to help Jason with his math work - he’s a seventh grade math teacher, you know - and we hit off. Marvin moved out then, and took Jason with him, but I still see Jason at least five times a week,” Trina told them lengthily, moving her hands. The strippers listened with vapid attention, probably due to the alcohol.

 

“We met Whizzer and Cordelia from Marvin’s best friend, Charlotte. She had begun dating this girl named Cordelia, and she brought her along with Whizzer over to Marvin’s apartment to have a dinner of introduction. Cut to Whizzer and Marvin having to be physically pulled apart because they were that close to beating each other up. Since then, they’ve always been at each other’s throats. Even at Cordelia and Charlotte’s wedding, they crashed into the cake because they were scratching at each other,” Trina snickered about that, Louisa letting out a series of snorts in response.

 

“They’re calmed down, though, slightly. Marvin doesn’t try to fight him that much anymore. They actually fell asleep on one another over on the plane ride here, and somewhere along the line Delia convinced them to pretend to date to bother Whizzer’s mother. I haven’t seen them since the hotel breakfast this morning, so I don’t really know what they’re doing exactly, nor do I know what Mendel and Jason are doing,” She winced slightly, and resisted the urge to take out her phone to call either of them. They were off having fun, and so was she. There was a moment of silence, and then Claire passed her a wine bottle that had lipstick markings around the tip. She pressed it into Trina’s hand.

 

“Come on, girl, let loose a little! Let’s have fun!” Claire shrieked in her ear, and the rest of the group cheered along with her. Their driver, another male stripper named Evan, pumped his fist into the air silently. He was the only sober one besides Trina. She stared at the bottle for a moment, then took a gulp. Pulling back, she coughed at the soreness of it all, and felt her eyes starting to water slightly. Angel grinned.

 

“Woo!” She cheered, leaning on Tom for support. He returned her expression. Trina felt her spirits lift just slightly. These people didn’t care about who she was friends with, or the rest of her family. She was the only one who had decided to join them, so she was now part of their group. Trina was okay with that, she decided, and took another sip from the bottle.

 

“By the way,” She raised her voice, as Evan had quickly turned up the radio. “Where are we going?” Claire swung an arm around her shoulders, pushing their cheeks together in the hot, junky car.

 

“We’re going to California, bitch! Get with it!” She stuck out her tongue and waved it in the air, letting go of a stunned Trina, who was too surprised to move at the unexpected news of their departing from Las Vegas.

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 7.00 PM Pacific Time**

 

Mendel awkwardly pushed himself through two practically naked women who were dancing on the coffee table, pursing his lips at the party going on around him.

 

“Jason?” He called out, stumbling slightly over a pile of cuddling bodies in the center of the living room. He cupped his hands around his mouth and repeated his prior call, as the music thumping the background had probably covered up what he had said earlier. Unlocking the back door, he fell into the hot night air of upper Las Vegas. Jason was surrounded by females, who were chattering excitedly with him and admiring the gold chain around his neck. Mendel sighed, and stormed over to his step-son.

 

“Jason, what is this? How did you get this house?” Mendel’s voice cracked at the end, and he flushed when the girls let out fluttery laughs. Jason lowered his sunglasses - which he didn’t need, since there was no sunlight, Mendel pointed out silently - and stared up.

 

“With my casino money, baby! I’m rich!” He yelled, arms wrapped around the closest women, who giggled in his direction. Mendel pinched his skin, and when there was no waking up, he shrieked.

 

“You won this much money with your fake I.D? Jesus Christ, Jason!” Mendel yelped, Jason excusing himself from the ladies. He and Mendel strolled over to the other side of the pool.

 

“Jewish,” Jason reminded him with a smirk, trudging in front of his step-father proudly. His pointer finger wiggled in the air, and Mendel resisted the urge to shriek at the sheer stupidity of this moment.

 

“Look, I’m sorry, but I won that game of Blackjack and then I went a little overboard,” Jason told him apologetically, smiling slightly. “This house is only a rental, though, don’t worry. My millions are safe in the bank.” Mendel blinked.

 

“Why-What-your mother is going to be so pissed at me,” Mendel came to the realization slowly, Jason barking out a laugh before freezing.

 

“She’ll just be glad we won’t have to pay for my college tuition anymore. I got mills!” He catcalled to the girls at the last part, who waved at him. Mendel rolled his eyes at his childish step-son, then grabbed his shoulders to make him focus.

 

“Jason, you have to get all these people out of here. Obviously, you’ve done some underage drinking, and if anyone finds out I got you a fake I.D, you and I both are gonna get our asses handed to us,” Mendel warned him. Jason made a “psst” noise in reply.

 

“Come on, I’m Jason Cohen! I can deal with the cops,” He pushed his sunglasses back down over his eyes. Mendel let go of his shoulders to take them off roughly.

 

“No, you can’t. You’re a seventeen year old boy who plays Dungeons and Dragons with his friends on his Friday nights. You’re not a pimp, or whatever you think you are,” Mendel told him earnestly, Jason doing some sort of weird gang sign.

 

“You don’t understand, dude! I can bail us out of jail anyway. I can bail everyone here out of jail! Woop!” He screamed, and Mendel slapped a hand over his mouth to make sure no more embarrassing words erupted from his step-son’s lips.

 

“You’re not going to have to bail us out of jail, because you are going to unrent this house and kick everyone out,” Mendel scowled, Jason pouting.

 

“I don’t even think unrent is a word,” The younger grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. Though he was seventeen, Mendel was struck by the fact that he still had the childlike charm that shown through the first day he had met Jason.

 

“Don’t be a child, Jason. You’re going off to Penn State next year. This, this is something a child would do. What were you even thinking?” Mendel waved his arms in protest towards the large mansion behind them. Jason sighed dramatically.

 

“The power and money got to my head, Mendel, I’m sorry,” He drawled, unfolding his arms and letting them rest at his sides. Mendel desperately pushed against Jason’s puppy-dog eyes.

 

“Kick. Them. Out. Or we’re gonna get arrested!” Mendel threatened, Jason rolling his eyes and dropping the act.

 

“Fine. God, you’re just like dad sometimes,” He growled under his breath. He stormed off to tell the girls to leave the mansion, when Mendel heard the tell-tale sound of police sirens. Letting out a loud breath through his nose, he turned to the open doorway from the mansion into the backyard. Yes, Trina was going to be pissed.

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 7.30 PM Pacific Time**

 

Cordelia and Charlotte shifted in their seats at the bright lights being flashed down on them.

 

“Why did we agree to do this? Why couldn’t we have just spent the night relaxing in our hotel room and worrying about Whizzer?” Cordelia complained, her wife pressing a kiss to her forehead.

 

“Because they needed cultural representation, sweetheart,” She explained, wrapping an arm around Cordelia’s shoulders. “And we’re jewish, I’m black, and both of us are happily married lesbians.” Cordelia giggled, and eyed the rest of the couples. They were carbon copies of one another, white and straight and sad. She agreed with Charlotte silently in her mind, and the host strolled out onto the stage. Instantly, the stage audience erupted into rapid applause.

 

“Hello, my name is Chad Huntington, and as always, I’ll be your host tonight on another amazing round of-” He gestured to the crowd, who called back the title of the show in a series of unintelligible shrieks. Charlotte winced visibly.

 

“Today, we’ve got four couples competing for the two tickets to the Maldives, and trust me, tonight’s show is going to be off the charts,” He told them, nodding his head to himself. There was more clapping.

 

“Introducing our first couple, Miss Amelia Stevens and her handsome hubby Charles Stevens. Tell me, what do you two do for a living?” He waltzed over to the first little round circled couple and stuck the microphone in their faces.

 

“Um, I’m a forensic scientist and he’s a police officer,” Amelia spoke into the mic. The audience screamed, and Chad pulled the microphone back, showing off his pearly whites to the front camera.

 

“Girl power!” He stuck his fist in the air, and Amelia returned it excitedly. He strolled over to the next couple, the same one that had been standing in front of Charlotte and Cordelia.

 

“Our second of the night, engaged Fred and Debbie. Where are you guys from?” He smiled down at the redheaded girl, who begrudgingly allowed her partner to take the microphone.

 

“Uh, we’re from Punxsutawney. Go chucks!” He cheered, a few people in the audience going ballistic. Debbie waved to them frantically. Chad laughed goodnaturedly into the microphone.

 

“Greetings from the groundhogs,” He fist-bumped Fred, and turned his back on the young boy. Instantly, he started freaking out and began a whispered conversation with his fiancee.

 

“Our fourth just got back from spending two years straight in Uganda, after Arnold met his girlfriend, Nabulungi, on his Mormon mission,” Chad explained to the camera. The crowd consecutively awwed. “Talk about true love. Anything you guys want to say to the camera?” The chubby boy sat beside the dark-skinned woman, who was staring at him like he had hung the moon, grabbed the microphone in one sweaty hand.

 

“Hi Kevin! Hi Connor!” He squeaked, voice slightly higher than the two lesbians had been expecting. “I hope you guys are having fun! Don’t make out while the show is on!” The crowd laughed awkwardly, and Arnold plopped back down. Nabulungi let out a chuckle, as Chad furrowed his eyebrows.

 

“Well then. Onto our last, but certainly not least couple, Miss Charlotte and Cordelia DuBois,” He introduced the lesbians, learning the microphone down towards them. The crowd went insane at the sight of the lesbians, as predicted. Good representation equals good ratings. “How did you two ladies end up Las Vegas?” They gave each other looks.

 

“Our friend Whizzer had to come back to go to his homophobic dad’s funeral, even if he didn’t really want to go, and then Delia here forced the rest of our friend group to come with. Including Whizzer’s enemy, Marvin, who is also one of our friends and whom Whizzer is kinda in love with,” Charlotte explained. There was silence, and then another eruption. Chad looked surprised at how well the audience had reacted to that strange story. He blinked, and then turned back to the camera, beaming widely.

 

“As you can see, we’ve got some interesting people picked out tonight. But the question remains: who will win, and who will lose? Our prize for this round is one stellar trip to the Maldives! Join us to find out who’ll win after the break, on -” He pointed to the audience.

 

“COUPLES CLASHING!” They yelled, everyone waving their hands and cheering. Cordelia began clapping enthusiastically, Charlotte rolling her eyes playfully. They switched to commercial.

 

**Saturday, Las Vegas, 9.00 PM Pacific Time**

 

Whizzer clung to Marvin’s shoulder, the two laughing over each other as they stumbled along into the wedding chapel.

 

“God, why didn’t we do this sooner?” Whizzer questioned drunkenly, Marvin shrugging uselessly. They sat down on the nearest couch, the woman at the front desk just shaking her head in their direction.

 

“I don’t know. I don’t know!” Marvin chuckled, Whizzer grabbing at his cheeks and staring deep into his eyes.

 

“You know, I stopped,” He hiccuped, “stopped drinking like this after that whole hookup-with-the-guy-who-had-HIV thing, but honestly, I don’t remember why.” Marvin let out a short breath, the smell of tequila and whiskey covering Whizzer’s face as they were in close proximity.

 

“I don’t remember anything,” Marvin admitted, Whizzer letting him go to laugh loudly. There was music from inside the church, and the couple glanced at each other. They leapt up, and raced towards the doors to get married as soon as possible, when the woman at the desk coughed pointedly into her fist. The two men turned to her.

 

“We’d like one wedding, please,” Marvin eloquently put, strolling over to the desk. Whizzer trailed after him. The woman looked like she wanted to shoot herself.

 

“Can I have verification?” She droned, jotting something down on the notepad in front of her. Whizzer guessed it was either a suicide note or a grocery list. He cracked open his wallet and revealed his I.D, Marvin doing the same.

 

“Aren’t you gonna check if we’re too drunk or not?” Whizzer slurred, tilting his head. Marvin leant against him, slumping like a sack of potatoes. The girl rolled her eyes.

 

“Buddy, does it look like I care?” She snapped, and then went back to staring out the window. Whizzer shrugged, as did Marvin. The doors to the chapel burst open, revealing two prancing people, smiles wide on their faces.

 

“Let’s go in,” Whizzer told Marvin, and his companion followed him dutifully. Through Marvin’s drunken thoughts, one sober idea remained - he would follow Whizzer everywhere. They stumbled through the doors, seeing bland decor and an overweight man in an Elvis costume.

 

“Nick Distasio?” Whizzer questioned in disbelief. The Elvis impersonator's eyes widened at the sight of the tall man.

 

“Dude, Micah Brown? The kid I used to beat up in high school?” Nick exclaimed, Whizzer wincing just slightly. He was drunk, but he could still recall the memories of being tossed into trash cans.

 

“Uh, yeah. It’s Whizzer now. Blantly put, Nick,” Whizzer told him, he and Marvin making their way to the front of the chapel. Nick eyed them curiously, at Whizzer’s halfway buttoned top and Marvin’s jeans, on which the zipper was unfortunately opened from their awkward groping session in the middle of one club or another.

 

“What happened to you, man? You disappeared like… right before high school graduation with that lesbian chick,” Nick sounded concerned, causing Whizzer to poke his stomach, although it was sloppy due to the fact he was seeing two of everything.

 

“I went to New York after my parents kicked me out. Why do you care? You had a scholarship to UCLA, didn’t you?” Whizzer furrowed his eyebrows, attempting to remember. Marvin grabbed onto his hand and yanked him back, as Nick was beginning to appear a bit uncomfortable by the close proximity of the other man.

 

“It was to Texas University, and I lost it after I got Emma pregnant,” Nick sighed. Marvin wrinkled his nose. Why did it seem like everyone in this city wanted to kill themselves? “At least you don’t have to worry about that.” Whizzer snorted.

 

“You’re right, I don’t. I do have a kid, though,” At this, he slumped against Marvin’s shoulder, gesturing to the man beside him. “I share this guy’s son.” Nick nodded, and unfold a crumbled up slip of paper into his chubby hands.

 

“Who’s this guy?” Nick gestured to Marvin, raising an eyebrow at his ex-classmate. Whizzer drunkenly slumped against his companion.

 

“Well, he’s gonna be my husband whenever you decide to actually do your job,” He sassed out, Nick blinking for a moment before shaking his head in a dismissive motion. “But right now, I can barely see.”

 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a backstory to that, but my shift ends in like five minutes, so I’ve got to get this shit over with,” He cleared his throat, and banged a fist on his chest in order to completely go into character. “Wait, do you guys have a marriage certificate?” Whizzer and Marvin glanced at each other in confusion, before shaking their heads at Nick. He dragged out a sigh.

 

“Rebecca!” He screamed, and the girl from the front desk strolled in, face as bland as it had been before. “Give this weird-ass couple a marriage certificate.” She rolled her eyes, and scurried back to her desk. There was a banging noise, and then she handed both men a slip of paper. Whizzer was too drunk to read. Marvin didn’t care.

 

“Just sign your names at the bottom,” She deadpanned. “You can turn these in for an official one within ten days.” The two men did so quickly, and then turned back to Nick. He checked his watch, and winced at the thought of running late.

 

“Alright, I guess we’re gonna have to hurry this up. Rebecca, you’re the witness.” She huffed something, and plopped down in the front chair. “Do you two promise to take care of each other in sickness and in health and all that other bullshit?”

 

“I do,” Whizzer raised his hand, bouncing on his heels. “I do! I do!” Marvin laughed, and snuffed the sounds out in the strands of Whizzer’s flouncing hair.

 

“Okay,” Marvin agreed after he had calmed down. Nick reached into his pocket, and pulled out two plastic looking rings. Whizzer allowed Marvin to slip one on his outstretched hand, giggling all the while. It took at least a minute to put the other on Marvin, but he didn’t seem to mind. Through the drunken haze between them, they were grinning in actuality.

 

“You may now kiss the groom,” Nick refolded the paper, both he and Rebecca grimacing away in preparation. Whizzer flung his arms around Marvin’s neck and connected their lips sloppily. It was more of a battle between their tongues and teeth than a real kiss. Needless to say, after about thirty seconds they were booted from the wedding chapel with an enthusiastic goodbye from both Nick and Rebecca. Nick because of his uncomfortableness at seeing an old classmate, and Rebecca mostly because she just disliked Whizzer and Marvin. The two men didn’t really particularly care. They were too distracted by the fact that they had just gotten _fucking married_ to really pay attention.

 

Whizzer Brown threw himself onto Marvin the moment they arrived at their hotel room, pressing their chests together so tightly that Marvin felt as though he couldn't breathe. Marvin grabbed onto Whizzer's biceps and shoved him roughly against the locked hotel door, resuming their prior position. Whizzer's short shorts rubbed against his own jeans, and Marvin resisted rolling his eyes back into his head. This man was going to be the death of him.

 

“Let’s do this, baby,” He hissed into Whizzer’s ear, before curling a hand around in Whizzer's perfect styled hair and yanking their heads to collide in a chaos of lips and teeth. Whizzer moaned openly at the fingers tugging at his hair, hands sliding up into Marvin's shirt to scratch against his back, giving way to Marvin's sweeping tongue. They kissed like they were stumbling still, Whizzer's leg jamming up into Marvin's crotch, the friction causing Marvin to growl. He'd be damned if Whizzer didn't think that was intoxicatingly hot.

 

"Marvin," He meant to command it, warning deep in his voice. Instead, it came out high and breathy, his whine stiffening against the walls of the hotel room. His ring scratched against Marvin’s scalp, and while it was ugly, the feeling of it against his skin did something to him.

 

"You're mine, Whiz," Marvin grunted, lips trailing the intoxicatingly perfect jawline he fixated on regularly. Sinking his teeth into the space where Whizzer's neck connected with his chin, he felt the rough shudder that ran through the man underneath him. He prided in the fact that the bruise to be left there would be unable to cover up.

 

"All yours," Whizzer choked out, hands engulfing themselves in Marvin's dark curls for support as he reached up with both legs to wrap around his partner's waist. Marvin's fingers continually slid down to grab Whizzer’s ass to hike him up, slamming him against the door once more. Whizzer groaned, a dazed smile drifting onto his lips at the needed friction. Their lips slid together noisily, spit and passion and love, all of the unspoken confessions in between captured carefully as Whizzer licked his way into Marvin's mouth.

 

“Come on, do you have a condom?” Whizzer yanked away, Marvin stumbling backwards drunkenly. The two collapsed onto the bed, the taller of the two rolling on top of the other.

 

“No. I didn’t think I was gonna get lucky,” Marvin told him honestly. Whizzer nursed the bottom of his lip underneath the top of his teeth for a moment, then straddled Marvin.

 

“That’s okay. We can do other things,” Whizzer shrugged. Marvin lifted his head from where it had fallen back onto the pillow, eyebrow raised.

 

“What do you mean-” He was choked off by Whizzer licking his hand obscenely, and then jamming a hand down his jeans. Marvin flopped back onto the unopened bedsheets, his husband cackling at his reaction. _Husband._ Jesus christ, this day was overwhelming. Whizzer grabbed him roughly, drunkenly, too out of it to actually play nice. Marvin’s head lolled to the side, Whizzer watching him as he jacked him off.

 

“Is this a good idea?” Marvin slurred, both from the unnecessary amount of alcohol and the intoxicating presence of Whizzer. Whizzer raised an eyebrow in his direction.

 

“Do you think it is? We just got fucking married, baby,” He laughed, throwing his pretty face backwards as he leaned closer into Marvin. He sped up, Marvin groaning at the sloppiness of the handjob. “Come on, Marvie, you know you want to.” Marvin squeezed his eyes shut, avoiding the image of a debauched Whizzer in front of him, holding his erection in one hand, lazily jerking it without lube or anything between their hands besides a layer of spit. The position was incredibly uncomfortable, and if Marvin had been sober to deal with it, they probably wouldn’t have started this in the first place. But he wasn’t sober, and neither was Whizzer, and honestly he was just glad that there was someone giving his penis attention anyway.

 

“Oh, Whiz,” Marvin moaned, Whizzer giggling wildly. He let out an animalistic grunt, and came way too soon to not be embarrassed. They were past the point of blackout drunk now, though, so Whizzer’s only reaction was to change his drunken chuckles into high pitched whines at Marvin’s crumbled state. Marvin was about to return the favor, when Whizzer collapsed onto him, sound asleep. It was obvious he had come in his pants, like a horny teenager. Marvin simply wrapped an arm around Whizzer’s head, pulling them into a cuddling position. As Marvin drifted off to sleep, a vague voice in his mind reminded him that he’d be very ashamed about this incident tomorrow. Ignoring it, he tugged Whizzer closer, in spite the grossness that was the two lying fully clothed, in bed together, cum coating both Whizzer’s left hand and Marvin’s shirt. They’d probably end up taking their clothes off some time during the night anyhow.

 

**END OF SATURDAY**

 

**Sunday, Las Vegas, 7.30 AM Pacific Time**

 

Marvin Cohen woke up with another body lining on top of his. They were tangled up in his hotel room sheets. Or someone’s hotel room sheets. The tuffs of hair scratched against his chest, not uncomfortably, but it was a strange sensation all the same. He was about to fall back asleep, believing this was some sort of dream, when the person shifted against his bare body. His eyes snapped open as the memories flooded back, a few missing. The most important one, or the one he had believed to be at the time, was that he had hooked up with Whizzer Brown.

“Oh my god!” He squeaked, and flung away from him. The other man bounced onto the bed at the loss of his pillow, and he grudgingly cracked his eyelids open.

 

“What’s goin’ on,” He slurred out, waking up to a fuzzy vision of another, terrified man covering himself up with the thin hotel sheets. He rubbed his eyes and realized that it was Marvin.

 

“Ah!” He yelped, and did the same to the other side of the sheets, hair sticking up in all directions. Marvin would have made fun of him if he wasn’t so freaked out by this.

 

“Did we…” Whizzer trailed off, his question hanging in the air. Marvin eyed the state of the room with a face of utter shock. It was messy, and obvious that they had been drunk. There were piles of clothes on the floor.

 

“Yeah, I think we did,” Marvin breathed out in confirmation. They returned to gazing at each other awkwardly. “That doesn’t mean I hate you any less, though.” Whizzer nodded in agreement.

 

“Right,” He spoke, voice slightly shaky. “I just had… an urge, that’s all. I was unstable, and we were drunk. I don’t feel anything but hatred for you.” They watched each other for a moment, awkwardly and uncomfortably. The standoff was less than three seconds, tongues and teeth and hands flying towards the other almost magnetically. Whizzer was about to delve back into the mystery that was Marvin Cohen, before his hand flopped out beside him, and the light filtering through the closed blinds glinted off something on his ring finger. He shrieked, and sat up wildly, almost smacking Marvin in the head.

 

“What? What’s happening now?” He cried out, Whizzer revealing a shaky hand to Marvin. The two gaped as Marvin took out his hands as well. Matching. Rings.

 

“Oh, holy hell,” Whizzer stammered out, and then felt his eyes roll into the back of his head as he fainted onto the hotel bed.

 

 **Sunday, Las Vegas, 8.00 AM Pacific Time**  

 

Mendel woke up on the floor of a county jail. Opening his eyes to see the light streaming through a small window, and a disinterested clerk outside of the cell, he smacked a hand against his forehead. Jason was beside him, gold chain still clinging to his neck. Thank god they put a shirt on him.

 

“Jason. Jason!” Mendel whispered gently, nudging his side. Jason batted his hand away, still half-asleep.

“Leave me alone, dad,” Jason whined, halfway to himself, and Mendel sighed into the almost empty jail cell.

 

“Jason, we’re in a jail cell. Because of you. I’m telling Trina you were the one that got the coppers on us,” Mendel told him. Jason glared at him furiously, and sat up off of the dirty ground.

 

“First of all, you’re the one acting childish. Second of all, don’t say coppers. Please. And third of all, I’ve got too much of a headache to be stuck in a jail cell at like eight o'clock at night,” Jason listed them off of his fingers. Mendel tugged on his sweater. The jail cell was cold.

 

“Jason, I am your step-father. Not only that, I’m your ex-teacher and one of your only friends,” Mendel started, Jason opening his mouth to protest. Mendel shook his head at his stepson. Jason fell silent, albeit angrily.

 

“I know that, but currently I’m the sane one here. You allowed me to get a fake ID, dude,” Jason huffed out annoyedly, Mendel widening his eyes in offense.

 

“That’s because no one can resist your big eyes! Now I have to call Trina to bail us out of county jail. I can’t believe you,” Mendel grumbled, and fished his phone out of his pockets. The person at the desk didn’t look up at the sound of clacking. Jason folded his arms and leaned back onto the water, rolling his eyes. Trina almost didn’t pick up, and when she did, Mendel was already deeply confused by her lack of communication.

 

“What’s happenin’?” Her slurred voice came on, tired and hungover. Mendel felt his heart drop slightly, and pleaded with Jason silently for him to take the phone. Jason, of course, refused.

 

“Uh, Jason and I are in jail,” Mendel put bluntly. The other line was silent, before there was a small groan of pain.

 

“You and Jason are what? Where? Oh my god,” She seemed to be forcing herself to wake up. Mendel pulled the phone back to check the time. 8.05. Usually Trina was up and ready by seven o’clock. He winced at what was to come.

 

“Las Vegas county jail. Jason got his hands on a fake I.D, which I had nothing to do with, and then won millions at a casino. We need you to bail us out,” He rushed. “Where are you?”

 

“I think…” There was a feminine voice from the other line then, telling Trina something. “I’m in California. God dammit, Angel, what did you give me last night? I’m gonna throw up.” Mendel guessed the volume was up enough for Jason to hear, as a terrified expression slid across his face. There was ruffling, and then a female giggle reached Mendel’s ears.

 

“Are you Trina’s husband, Mendel? Don’t worry, she’s in good hands,” The girl promised Mendel, though he didn’t feel any better about the situation.

 

“Why is she in California?” He asked in shock. Angel, or, who he guessed was Angel, seemed to not really know as well.

 

“She just kinda joined us, and halfway through our drive we were like let’s go to California, and it wasn’t like she disagreed with us,” Angel started explaining, the sounds of Trina dry-heaving in the background.

 

“I am a thirty-five year old woman who has a seventeen year old child, when I drink, I don’t make good life decisions!” She shouted in the background. Angel chuckled, and then pulled the phone closer to her ear once more.

 

“We’ll come pick you up and bail you out, no sweat. Anyone who’s family of Trina’s is family of us,” Angel told them, and the line went dead. Father and son stared at each other in utter shock for a moment of silence, before Jason spoke up softly.

“I think she got the saying wrong.”

 

**Sunday, Las Vegas, 8.30 AM, Pacific Time**

 

Cordelia lifted up her sunglasses to glance at her wife, who was basking in the foreign sun contently. She smiled down at her, and connected their hands. Charlotte just lolled her head to the side, meeting Cordelia’s loving expression with a similar one of her own. Cordelia opened her mouth to speak, when her phone went off from the table beside them. Letting go of Charlotte’s hand, she rolled over to pick up and see who it was.

 

“Hello?” She questioned, the sun having been too bright for her to see the screen correctly. There was a wail on the other end, and she scowled into her phone, recognizing the noise of self-pity almost instantly. “Whizzer... “ Charlotte chuckled from where she was lying, sunglasses tilting up towards the edge of her nose.

 

“Delia, I’m in a bit of a situation right now,” He breathed hotly into the phone, and Cordelia rolled her eyes at her best friend. Charlotte let out a silent sigh due to his greeting, and took a sip from the drink beside her.

 

“Let me guess, you ran out of hairspray?” She questioned, Charlotte stifling her laughter. Cordelia glared playfully at her wife, and put the phone on speaker so that both could suffer.

 

“No! Last night, Marvin and I did something that was really bad…” He trailed off, voice shaky from crying. Cordelia’s eyes widened noticeably.

 

“Did you kill someone? Oh my god!” Charlotte gasped. Delia raised an unimpressed eyebrow towards her lover, who stuck her tongue out in response.

 

“No, idiot!” Whizzer snapped. “Marvin and I got married.” The last sentence was rushed, and left both lesbians blinking in surprise.

 

“Sorry, I don’t think I heard you right. Did you say you and Marvin _got married?_ ” Cordelia asked, dangerously calculated. She felt like slapping Whizzer honestly. That was her mood 24/7, to be quite honest.

 

“Yeah, in one of those fakeass Vegas chapels. We got a wedding certificate and everything. We also had sex...I think. I don’t really remember,” Whizzer confessed loudly. In the hotel room, Marvin was pacing back and forth in front of the window, pointedly ignoring the other man. Back in the Maldives, Charlotte was rubbing her forehead with one hand, attempting to push away the oncoming headache that Whizzer always seemed to bring with him.

 

“Oh my god, we shouldn’t have left you guys alone for that long. I don’t know why I put my trust in you that you two wouldn’t act stupid for once,” Cordelia sighed, loud enough for both Marvin and Whizzer to hear.

 

“I’m sorry, but my mom was being a bitch and I needed to get drunk! Where are you two, by the way? Marvin and I are about to head out for my father’s burial, since we woke up so late we missed the actual funeral,” He explained to her. Cordelia and Charlotte both looked at each other. Charlotte shook her head, and Cordelia leaned back to the phone.

 

“We’re not in Las Vegas. We’re in the Maldives. We won a trip after going on Couples Clashing,” She told him, Charlotte slapping a hand to her forehead. Cordelia winced at her once the words had left her mouth.

 

“What else can go wrong today? I’ll call you after the burial, Delia,” Whizzer sounded on the verge of tears. There was a shuffling, and then Whizzer’s sniffles were muffled by most likely Marvin’s shirt. The phone line hung up. Charlotte raised her eyebrows, took a sip of her drink, and then focused back on their vacation. Cordelia took her hand, and the two lesbians prepared to spend the rest of the week soaking up the sun together, not giving a shit about what their family members were doing.

 

**Sunday, Las Vegas, 10.00 AM Pacific Time**

 

“I’m sorry we took so long, guys,” Trina apologized once she arrived at the county jail with her stripper friends, Mendel standing up instantly to kiss his wife through the bars. His face lit up at the sight of her. While Angel negotiated the terms of bailing them out with the bored cop at the front entryway, Trina knelt down to speak to her son and husband.

 

“I can’t believe you two,” She scolded, scowling at the duo. Jason threw his hands up in the air, curls flopping against his sweaty forehead.

 

“You ran off and did drugs with strippers! I think you did way worse than us,” He snarked, crawling closer to the bars of the jail. Mendel not-so-subtly smacked the back of his step-son’s head.

 

“I think we all did things we regret,” Trina admitted, fidgeting with the wedding ring still clinging to Mendel’s finger, then smiled up at her family. “But at least none of us died.”

 

“Alright, you’re gonna be let out!” Angel cheered, an open bottle of wine in her hand. The officer unlocked the jail cell, and the trio stood to embrace tightly.

 

“Can we never go to Vegas again? Please?” Jason murmured into Trina’s sweater, grimacing as he removed his head to see a sticky substance on her sleeve that was unidentifiable.

 

“I guess we’ll have to ask Whizzer about that,” Trina allowed. “But I don’t want to come back again either.”

 

“Hey, you don’t want to see us again?”  Louisa questioned with a grin, both she and Tom joining their friend by the hallway next to the jail cell. Trina winced.

 

“Sorry guys,” She began to apologize, but Angel waved it away, the same laidback grin on her face that had always been there. It seemed she never stopped smiling.

 

“It’s cool, chicka,” She promised, Trina squeezing her shoulder. “But if you’re back in Vegas, call us up. You’re one hell of a partier.” With that, the three strippers disappeared. Trina grinned toothily at her husband.

 

“Did you hear that? According to a stripper, I’m one hell of a partier!” Trina cheered triumphantly. She slung an arm around Jason’s shoulders, though he was taller than her.

 

“Just don’t put that on your resume,” Mendel absentmindedly joked, Trina jabbing him in his side. He laughed, and suddenly the whole family was laughing hysterically.

 

“What did you do last night that led you to be driven to California then?” Mendel asked one they had calmed down. Trina shrugged.

 

“I went to the bar at 1:30 or so. You guys had already abandoned me, and I wanted to prove that I was cool enough,” She folded her arms across her chest. Mendel smiled at his wife, then shook his head.

 

“Trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to come with us,” He sighed. “Jason went way overboard and bought a beach house.”

 

“Well, I am disappointed in the fact that you allowed your step-son to get a fake I.D,” Trina mused, pulling Mendel’s head to her chest. He bent his knees in order to fit comfortably. Jason watched his parents in amusement. “But I can get over it. You’ve done stupider things.”

 

They had been overwhelmed by the previous night’s events, but now, wrapped up once more in one another's embrace, it was alright. After a moment of silence, Jason spoke up quietly.

 

“Is this a bad time to remind you guys that I’m wearing actual gold around my neck? Actual gold that probably cost at least half of my casino money?”

 

**Sunday, Las Vegas, 10:30 A.M, Pacific Time**

 

“This is starting to sickly remind me of a romantic comedy,” Whizzer murmured annoyedly as he and Marvin stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the funeral home. His companion straightened his tie, messing with the ends nervously.

 

“I like romantic comedies,” He admitted, Whizzer watching him for a moment, before rolling his eyes coolly. “And sad ones, too.”

 

“I’m glad you’ve finally accepted your flaming homosexualilty, Marvie, but this is not the time nor place for that,” Whizzer jammed his hands into his suit pockets, feeling a chill rush through the air. Marvin peered at him quizzically, before wincing at the memory of the use of the nickname the night before.

 

“I’m married to a man, now,” Marvin told him seriously. Whizzer stared at him in utter confusion for a second, not understanding the workings of Marvin Cohen’s brain, before shaking his head and speed-walking off. A shout of agitation came from Marvin, and he pounded against the sidewalk after him.

 

The moment they arrived at the funeral home, Whizzer ran up to his mother. Resting a hand on her shoulder, she turned away from the conversation she had been having with one of her daughters to look up at him.

 

“What do you want?” She snapped, although tiredly, as she was emotionally drained from her husband’s funeral.

 

“Just five minutes. Please,” Whizzer promised, and then motioned for her to follow him inside. She did, slowly and untrustworthy. Marvin stood outside, hands tucked into his suit pockets. He gave Whizzer a smile. Once inside, Whizzer twisted to face his mother, who was staring at him with such a look of disgust he almost abandoned his plan completely.

 

“I’m sorry,” Whizzer blurted, his mother blinking in absolute surprise. “I’m sorry that I yelled at you. You’re really upset about dad dying, I know. Also, you’re upset because I came back without saying anything to you about whether or not I was going to, and you weren’t prepared. But you’re my mom, and I don’t want to die knowing that you can’t stand the sight of my face.” He let out the breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, and prepared himself for anything she was about to say. Hanging his head, he expected her to do the same thing she had always done - purse her lips and turn her head away so she didn’t have to look at him.

 

“Micah,” His mother began, a soft tone overtaking her usual snootish. He whipped his head up in surprise at the fact that she had started to reply. “I know I didn’t raise you as well I should have. I was too distant. I thought that if I just allowed your father to take care of you, you’d turn out to be more of a man than you would have if I had babied you. But you were my eldest. I should have given you more attention or-or shown you more love.”

 

“Don’t blame yourself for how I turned out,” Whizzer told her. “You made the mistake of throwing me out, but I chose to practically ruin my body by whoring myself out all over New York City.” His mother looked on the verge of tears.

 

“Oh, Micah…” She put a hand to his face, Whizzer leaning into it. He’d barely felt his mother’s touch when he was a child, deseperately begging for it now. “That was not your fault. I raised you in the worst way possible, and still you’ve become a wonderful young man. You’ve got a step-son, kind of, and a boyfriend who seems to really love you.” Whizzer snapped out of his trance just slightly at that, realizing that Marvin loved him suddenly.

 

“I’m trying to accept you for who you are, because I miss having my son come over for holidays,” His mother explained. “But I’ve been pushing you away for so long, I don’t know if you’d want me to anymore. I’ve been a horrible mother.” Whizzer smiled, tears welling in his eyes.

 

“You have,” He allowed, his mother letting out a shocked laugh. “But I’m starting to forgive you. We’ve both made mistakes.” His mother let out a gasp, and hugged him close. She was fragile and petite, causing her to practically melt into Whizzer when he clutched her tightly. He began to sob into her blouse, the woman allowing her son to do so, tears leaking from her own eyes. His heart felt as though it was about to burst. They pulled back, and his mother squeezed his hand.

 

“Let’s head out to the burial,” She decided, Whizzer nodding. The two marched out together, paths altered forever. As Whizzer motioned for Marvin to come close to him, he realized what big decisions he and the man would have to make after this.

 

Whizzer and Marvin stood beside each other, watching one another carefully. Whizzer wasn’t crying, as he had been expecting. He had forgotten what his father looked like, to be honest, in those fifteen year they were apart. The photos he saw were of his younger days, sepia coloring filtering through. Marvin had a hand resting on Whizzer’s hip the entire time, eyes lingering on his face every time another person stood to give a speech. Whizzer did not shift from his stiff stance beside the grave, eyes unnaturally dry.

 

“Are you okay? Your face hasn’t changed at all,” Marvin frowned at his husband (what were they now? Technically married, but Whizzer didn’t feel like thinking about that.) The other did not respond in kind, only just giving him a faint hint of a smile.

 

“I’m great. Just fine. I’m loving life right now,” Whizzer choked out, voice gravely. “I’m just so happy that my dad is dead, and that my worst enemy is now my sort-of husband. Life’s just perfect.” Marvin didn’t push conversation anymore after that, too worried that he’d make Whizzer burst into flames. As they watched the coffin be placed into the ground, Whizzer’s mother sobbing into the shoulder of one family member or another, Rachel approached them carefully.

 

“How are you guys holding up? You kinda just… ran off last night,” She drifted off at the sight of the hungover men, Whizzer’s eyes widened uncharacteristically. He sighed, and presented the ring on his finger to her. Rachel’s face lit up instantly, although it was slightly dimmed by the blandness of the ring.

 

“Marvin proposed to you? That’s so sweet!” She squealed. Whizzer shook his head, and yanked away from Marvin’s grip rather roughly. Marvin didn’t force another arm around his waist, and instead took a step back, allowing Whizzer some amount of privacy with his sister-in-law.

 

“No, he didn’t,” Whizzer breathed out, watching how the ring reflected against the sunlight. “You deserve the truth, Rachel.” She furrowed her eyebrows rather innocently, a look Whizzer would only usually see on Jason’s face.

 

“What’s the truth? What happened to you guys? What’s that ring for?” She reached out, and poked it experimentally. He took her hand tightly, and stared straight into her eyes.

 

“Marvin isn’t my actual boyfriend. He was just pretending so I could bother my family. I’m sorry,” He confessed, Rachel’s face softening at his words. She was silent, reminding Whizzer painfully of his mother when he was younger, refusing to comfort him or give him reassurance in his times of trouble.

 

“Well, say something!” He gasped out loud, not understanding why he felt so attached to this woman he had meet less than a day before. He supposed it was because they were family. “Please.” Rachel gave him a forced smile, and squeezed his hand.

 

“I understand why you did it, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less,” She replied, and dropped their hands. “I trusted you, Whizzer, and I still do. You’re my brother-in-law, even though I only heard of you through Steven. I just wish it wasn’t so hard to connect with an estranged family member. You came with him out of spite. Why’d you lie to the people who accepted you?” His gaze wavered, and he dropped it to his shoes.

 

“Because to be honest, I wanted it to be true,” Whizzer admitted quickly. Marvin gaped at him, not really processing the fact that Whizzer had willingly admitted to wanting to be a romantic relationship. Rachel’s eyes widened comically.

 

“Are you in a romantic comedy?” She asked, a smile slipping onto her face. Whizzer let out a much needed laugh. Marvin attempted to look happy, as his husband giggled quietly.

 

“Hopefully so,” He responded with, and they dropped hands. She stared at him for a long moment, before reaching into her purse to grab out a notepad and a pen.

 

“Here, take mine and Steven’s home phone number. When we visit New York City, or when you come back to Las Vegas, be sure to call,” She ordered, and scribbled down the numbers. Ripping it off the pad, Whizzer took it gratefully, and folded it to place inside of his suit pocket.

 

“Thank you,” He spoke genuinely. Rachel shrugged, patted his shoulder, and then strolled back over to her husband, who was watching her as though she had hung the moon. Whizzer turned back to Marvin, the expression that had been on Steven’s face replicated on his own.

 

“You’re a wonder, Whizzer Brown,” He marveled, and looked as though he was about to kiss him. Whizzer instead just took his hand. Eyeing their tangled fingers, both men refused to speak about what had happened, and what their relationship meant now. Marvin opened his mouth to implore, to ask about Whizzer’s confession, confused but slightly excited. He shook his head then, and closed it tightly. As Marvin placed their connected hands into his coat pocket softly, Whizzer took in his joyful stance, his reddened cheeks, and decided with a smile that, for him, was enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](https://validemail.tumblr.com/)


End file.
